Coming Home?
by Lady J2
Summary: Completed. All original characters. This is the side of the rebellion Lucas never envisioned as the cry "Loot the bodies!" rises. Please review!!
1. Dreams

"Damn it, C'tra, you'll go where I tell you."  
  
Duncan's fingers dung into her arm. She tried – and failed – to squirm away.  
  
"Listen to me." He shook her to punctuate each word. Get Zinc out of here. You're the only one who can fly him out and he'll bury you so they don't find you. I'll meet you at Segea." Duncan shifted his hands, cupping her chin. "You're a damn good pilot, Jal, but you don't have a prayer outside the cockpit.  
  
"And where will you be? Here?"  
  
Duncan half-smiled. "Yeah."  
  
"What?! Duncan, I will not – "  
  
Duncan covered her mouth with his, effectively silencing her. And for a moment, she gave in, molding her body to his. Then she pushed him away, eyes narrowing.  
  
"I will not be befuddled, Too'lite. What do you mean you're staying here – without me?"  
  
"The computer system. After the hell I went thought to get it, I will not leave it for the Imperials." She snorted. "Neither can we leave Zinc to their tenders mercies."  
  
"Or you."  
  
"Yea, but I can fly myself out. Zinc can't." he put a finger to her lips, then jerked it away when she moved to bit it. "Enough woman. Breke's waiting." He pushed her towards the runners. Inside one, Zinc already had the engines going.  
  
She turned on him. Then Breke can fly Zinc out."  
  
Duncan just looked at her. "Get real. Who's the 'real' pilot?" He shoved her through the hatch. "Now, move before that destroyer drops in. You still have to get around the corvettes."  
  
"If they kill you Too'lite – "  
  
"Then I'll haunt you." He dropped a hard kiss on her lips.  
  
And shut the hatch in her face.  
  
Jalien woke with a gasp and clutch the cover around her. "Lights." Instantly, light flooded the room, and she bowed her head, trying to control the shaking.  
  
That damn dream. Always the same, always ending with the Imperials closing in. She easily outruns the waiting corvettes, and jumps to safety just as the Destroyers drop in.  
  
And then, feeling half her soul rip away as they kill Duncan.  
  
Jalien gave herself a shake, then threw back the covers. Gods, she hated that dream. It always brought with it a feeling of hopelessness and pain that this happy-go-lucky little space pirate didn't want to dwell on. Losing Duncan…  
  
Fortunately, the damn dream wasn't reality. Duncan was alive and kicking somewhere. Just somewhere he hadn't bother to inform her about yet, the bastard.  
  
She stalked across the room, grapping a flask from one of the various piles and took a swig. Grimacing from the taste – Buelians aren't know for their whiskey – she flopped into a chair and stared out into the darkness.  
  
Damn Duncan anyway 


	2. Greet the day

1 Chapter 2  
  
An insistent beeping finally cut through Jalien's sleep fogged brain. She threw a handy boot at the comm unit – which fell short, of course.  
  
With a grumble, she buried back into the covers, and dragged a pillow over her head. The beep stopped, only to start again after 30 seconds, just as she started to sink back into the oblivion of sleep.  
  
She lunged out of bed, slapped the receive button and snarled, "What!"  
  
"My, my, my. And a good morning to you as well, "Sturrick drawled over the line.  
  
She flopped back into bed and covered her eyes with one hand. "What the hell do you want?"  
  
He chuckled, and she wanted to smack the grin she could just see off his face. "Half's the morning's gone. Time to move, slug."  
  
"As I seem to recall, we have downtime until tomorrow. I repeat, what the hell do you want?"  
  
"Well," he drawled, " a nice young junior has doubted the effectiveness of my blaster. Care to give a personal testimony?"  
  
"You and your blaster can both rot in the lower depths of Hades. Tell junior that it's blown up in your face in every fight so far."  
  
She heard a second laugh underneath Sturrick's irritated "Hey! Just wait a minute and I'll show you how unreliable…"  
  
Jale smiled grimly to herself as the bounty hunter's com-link closed. Sturrick was way to fond of his toys, especially that over-built blaster rifle of his. A ribbing from a nice, clean-cut Rebel type would annoy him to no end. She was briefly sorry for the young Rebel, but dismissed him out of mind. He served to distract 'rick from her quite nicely.  
  
She flung the covers back over her head. However, after several minutes of tossing and turning she finally threw them back for the final time. "Damn the man." Which man really didn't matter. She was awake. Might as well get moving.  
  
She took two steps before the icy nature of the floor fully registered. "Shit, shit, shit, shit, shit!" she yelped and crow-hopped to the closest pile of clothes littering the ground. There she stood, shivering and continued to curse for several more minutes. This damn base was much too old. The environmental control must have frizzed again, leaving hers on the default setting – nothing. She fished out the closest pair of boots (from under the bed), shoved them on, and clumped into the bathroom.  
  
"Blah." She made a face at the woman in the mirror. Her short-cropped black hair was plastered to one side of her head, and stuck out in little clumps. With another shiver, she reached to turn on the shower jets. Icy water shot out and she cursed again. Environmental controls be damned!  
  
Growling under her breath she turned back to the mirror, hoping against hope that the water would eventually warm. Funny how life works, she mused. Who'd have though eight months ago she'd have joined up with these Rebels? Certainly not her. But, when Tiree approached her on Camloten, it was the perfect opportunity to escape the Imperial net even she could see closing in around her.  
  
Now, here she was, shivering in a run-down hideout, amidst a bunch of idealistic fools. Humph. At the least they paid. Not much, but some. And there's always the "windfalls" after a fire fight, she thought sardonically.  
  
Unconsciously her right hand rose to trace the piece fixed permanently in her ear. Her eyes closed and for one moment she yearned with all her heart to know where the hell he was.  
  
Then she dropped her hand the gazed wryly into the violet eyes in the mirror. "What do you think you are – a Jedi?" She gave a small bark of laughter and turned to the shower.  
  
**************************************************************************** *************  
  
Jalien whistled tunelessly as she strode down the access corridor of the current Rebel base. Stopping at the gym facilities, she glanced in. There was only a young rebel corporal stretching in the center of the padded floor.  
  
"Hey. Have you seen either Chedakki or Sturrick?"  
  
He paused from his forms, and looked at her reflection in the floor to ceiling mirror. "Who?"  
  
She shook her head. If he didn't know them… "Thanks." And started to move off.  
  
"Wait." The young man came to the door. "Do you mean that young Jedi guy?"  
  
She sighed. At times she could swear Chedakki carried around a sign that read, "Please shoot me. I'm a Jedi."  
  
"That would be one of them, yes."  
  
"I think he mentioned something about going outside for his meditation."  
  
She smiled brilliantly at him, and the youngster blinked rapidly a few times. "Thanks."  
  
Picking up the tuneless whistle where she left off, she changed directions, making towards the hanger. Outside access was only to be had through a few carefully maintained ports. The hanger was the closest. Plus if offered a wonderful view of the valley below them. Wonder how much of it Chek is enjoying for once, she thought.  
  
A R2 droid beeped at her when she entered the hanger, and she thumped it affectionally on the head. "Hiya Seo. Just passing through."  
  
The droid whistled and continued on to its ship. Jale watched it go wistfully. It had been too long since she had a droid of her own… But, she didn't think that Alec would look too kindly upon her appropriating Seo.  
  
The hanger was aflurry with actively as she passed through. Judging by the banged up freighters littering the docking berths and the scared looks on the milling civilians in the corner, more refugees were arriving today. Jalien dodged around a crate and scampered to the other side of still slight hot freighter just as Lieutenant Jeffent came around the corner. The woman was a positive whirlwind when it came to the "human element" of the Rebellion, and she'd scoop up any unsuspecting Rebel officer to aid her in her cause. The last time Jalien had been stupid enough to stop at the request, she'd been saddled with a family of four in her quarters for two days, plus sheparding another 20 to the current refugee camp. Not this time.  
  
Making her way to the hanger doors as quickly, and as unobtrusively, as possible, Jalien escaped into the mid-afternoon sunshine and heaved a sigh of relief. Now to find Chedakki.  
  
Funny how life turns around, she thought as she picked her way up to the top of the ridge. The hanger was built into the side of a good-sized hill (Jale called it a mountain), and the base occupied most of the natural and unnatural tunnels that honeycombed it. Six months ago, I barely knew the Alliance existed. Now, they've made me an officer (with several reprimands, of course). Duncan will laugh his ass off. To top it off, she was also good friends with a self-proclaimed "kick-ass" bounty hunter, and a young Jedi in training. The fact that Chedakki refused to play upon his relationship to his grandfather annoyed both Jale and Sturrick to no end. What was the use of being General Dedonna's grandson if you couldn't use it for a little extra play now and then? But, nooooooo, that would be against the whole Jedi-code-thingy of his.  
  
With a final huff, she toped the ridge and started towards the nearby river. It was a good place to start if Chek was looking to mediate outside. Idly she wondered what drove him outside today. Granted it was a beautiful day, the birds were chirping and not a cloud in the sky, but it usually wasn't beauty that drove Chedakki outside. Ever since his small Jedi encampment was destroyed last year, the young man hated to be enclosed. Being outside gave him a sense of control and freedom that the tunnels below her feet usually hindered. Plus, he said he could feel the Force more strongly outside, feel the way the waves moved about him - whatever the hell that was suppose to mean.  
  
Personally, Jalien though he just used it as an excuse to escape her and Sturrick. Oh, Jale had nothing against nature, specifically. But, it usually entailed bugs, and mud, and branches hitting her in the face, she thought as she brushed one to the side, curling her lip at the smear of sap it left on her hand. Nothing matched with the feeling of a starship under her fingers, responding to her every need and desire. And Sturrick would much rather be in a card game, carousing in a bar or shooting some poor slob.  
  
Chek was a nature-baby alright. But, he was looking to escape less often nowadays. Especially not since he finally found a master just last month, and finally ridded the universe of that mega-bitch in Jedi robes, Melissa. Jalien repressed a shudder at the thought of that dark Jedi. The bitch was good and dead, and was not going to play games with anyone's head ever again.  
  
After five more minutes of walking she finally came upon the clearing. A small brook babbled nicely off to the side and the small waterfall splashed nicely in the corner. Sunlight bathed the young Jedi Knight in the center of the meadow as he moved through his slow stances. He called it a chi dance, or something like that. He'd tried to teach it to Jale once, and went off in a huff when she'd collapsed in giggles. Oh, sure, she could see the use for it for some folks, but the slow movements just annoyed her and she could never "picture the river" the way he said she should.  
  
A new serenity seemed to have finally settled on her friend. Maybe he had simply come out for the nice day for once. Chek was a good kid, and he deserved more than the raw deal fate had dealt him so far. Seeing your master and most of your classmates slaughtered by someone who claimed to be your friends isn't the best way to grow up. It's too bad Melissa died as quickly as she did, Jalien thought. I'd love to have put her through the hell she put the rest of us though.  
  
"So, what, are you communing with the butterflies again?"  
  
Chedakki never stopped moving through his stances. "Actually, they tell a pretty good story. If you'd care to join us…"  
  
Jalien laughed and settled on the ground a few feet away. "Thank you, no. They never seem to have the right amount of violence for my tastes." And then mentally slapped herself as she saw Chedakki's eyes tighten briefly. Damn. He was thinking about Elring 4 again.  
  
"So. How's the master?"  
  
"Passed out in the bar, I think. Grandpa's never gonna believe the bill."  
  
Jalien winced in sympathy. "Corwin?"  
  
"At last know whereabouts, plotting revenge again Nurse Gwend. She's foiled all his other attempts so far."  
  
"Yeah, well, just keep the bugger away from me, or I'll let Rick shoot him."  
  
"Hey! He's just a kid!"  
  
"Please! Your little bother is the most talented, destructive, mischief- making bundle of flesh I have ever seen."  
  
"It's just high spirits."  
  
"Stowing aboard ship, throwing himself head first into a mission, and piloting a B-wing fighter through the deserts of Tatooine is not high spirits. He nearly got us killed twice, and our faces plastered all over Imperial's Most Wanted, you may remember. High spirits, pheff. He attaches himself to me again, I'll send him to my home planet where they hitch 'high spirits' to plows. Or, better yet, I'll take him to Segea, and watch him annoy all the nice criminal types.  
  
"You wouldn't?" Chedakki stared at her, clearly torn between humor and horror.  
  
"Oh, probably not, " she conceded. "Although, I could mention it to Sturrick…"  
  
"Jalien!"  
  
"Oh, alright." She kicked playfully at his ankle when he stepped into range. "You take all the fun out of life, ya know?"  
  
"Yeah. I know."  
  
Jalien shot the young Jedi a look. He had settled into the grass at her side, and was vacantly tearing up bits of grass.  
  
"What's up Chedakki?"  
  
"Oh, nothing." He threw away the grass bundle in disgust. "Just that, I've lost my lightsaber, have a drunk for a master, and a rather dubious alien student, who claims to follow the Jedi code following me a round, looking for stray 'sabers. Life's dandy."  
  
Jalien sighed quickly. She couldn't blame him about the little Symanterian. There was something in the four-foot Jedi student's eyes that haunted her. It was too similar to the same look she saw in her own occasionally. But, Chedakki had just started to lighten up lately. She'd even gotten him out of the boring black robes, which fairly shouted "Jedi" at the top of their lungs. Granted it wasn't anything like her style (as she unconsciously smoothed a hand over the electric blue bodysuit encasing her thigh), still muted colors, but it was a change. He even cracked jokes now and then. But there were times when he slid back into the pale young man he'd been.  
  
"Your greatest enemy is dead. It's not much, but she won't cause anymore death."  
  
"Yeah. But, there's still the Emperor and that mysterious 'master' of hers."  
  
Jalien shudder brief, remembering that inky black touch crawling over the inside of her skull. Then she firmly shoved it back and threw a handful of tiny tree needles at Chedakki. He shifted slightly to the side and most of them missed. A small grinned played at the corner of his mouth.  
  
"Show off." Jalien made a face at him, then looked up as the low rumble of an engine filled the sky. "Transport coming in. Probably more refugees. Come on," She pushed herself up. "Time to get going back. You'll probably want to meet the poor people on board."  
  
"Planning on disappearing before we get to the hanger?" he asked.  
  
"Why, Chek, would I ever do that?" She batted her eyelashes at him.  
  
"In a heart-beat."  
  
"Damn. You know me all too well. I think I need to change my style."  
  
Chedakki snorted, then looked at the pirate sideways. "Race you in?"  
  
Jalien started to protest, but stopped. "Oh, what the hell. You probably need the ego boast." And before the words were out of her mouth, she sprinted down the trail, Chedakki in hot pursuit. 


	3. The touch of an echo

1 Chapter 3 – The touch of an echo  
  
It did turn out to be another load of refugees. While Chedakki helped greet and sooth their fears, Jalien wandered her way around the ship. Yep, she thought, same one. Though I heard that click in the engines. She was waiting when a smaller, separate ramp lowered from the cockpit.  
  
"Nice paint job. Was the carbon-scoring extra?"  
  
"And where'd you land your last ship, I might ask?" the burly pilot asked as he descended.  
  
'Hey, Tul, I wasn't flying." She smiled and clasped his arm. "Good to see you again, you old pirate."  
  
"You too C'tra. Saw that you'd joined these fools a couple months back. 'Most Wanted' galaxy to galaxy isn't exactly low profile. What would Too'lite say?"  
  
"Hey, the Captain always did like my flamboyant style."  
  
"In more ways than one."  
  
Jalien's eyes narrowed slightly. "Watch you six Tul," she said conversationally.  
  
"Aye," he replied. "So, is there a bar around here worth mentioning?"  
  
"No, not really. But, we do have poor facsimile of one. I'll show you the way."  
  
"Good. I ran out of whiskey just before the last jump." He pulled out a flask and upended it mournfully.  
  
Jalien's nose wrinkled as she caught the fumes. "Lords, Tul. You still drinking that rot gut?"  
  
"Hey! I brewed that myself."  
  
"Exactly." She rolled her eyes. "Now, come on. The stuff we have is slightly better than that. Plus, I need to escape before someone thinks that have a job for me." She turned to the door.  
  
"Hold on a minute." Three steps and Tul disappeared into the ship. He returned in less than a minute. "just have to remind that damn kid every ten minutes not to blow up the ship."  
  
Jalien maneuvered for a peek inside and only saw a pair of legs and a tangle of wire before the ramp closed.  
  
"Modifications?"  
  
Tul grunted. "Are you going to lead me to a bar, or not?"  
  
Jal laughed. "Come on." She led him past the refugees and out of the hanger. "Since when have you taken humanitarian transports?"  
  
"Since they started paying for it. This sure is a hellva lot easier than boarding parties. Besides, when did you become a devote Rebel?"  
  
"Since they started paying for it." Jalien utter a sharp bark of laughter. "Just ask anyone how 'devote' I am."  
  
Tul looked at her in mild surprise.  
  
"Hey, I earned the rank of Ensign and two shinny medals."  
  
"How much are they paying?"  
  
"Tut, tut, tut. You know I never kiss and tell, Tul. But, I wouldn't give up your day job. Not if you intend to pay off Ergas Sol any time soon. How is the old corpse doing anyway?"  
  
"Still sore at you and Duncan. At least you returned the crystals, or he'd have every bounty hunter in the galaxy after you."  
  
"Yeah. Good thing. In here."  
  
Tul looked at her as she proceede him through the doorway. "You did return everything, didn't you?"  
  
"Tul." Jalien turned her head, reproach in her voice. "don't you think the bounty on my head would be bigger than the pittance it is now, even with the Imperial bonus? Even the Corpse would have noticed any missing and screamed bloody murder. Do you hear screaming?" She held a hand to her ear. "Nope." Then she turned to the bar. "Two buzzers, please."  
  
The barkeep nodded, lights shinning of his chrome head.  
  
Tul stared at it with distaste. "A 'droid keep? What are you people, savages?"  
  
"No. But we can't afford the manpower for a breathing 'keep. So we live with it." She reached for the two blue glasses sliding her way. "Only one step up from rot-gut, but drinkable." She slapped a couple of credits on the bar. "Let's sit. "  
  
"Sure. But not for too long. I have to make sure that damn kid doesn't wreck my ship. I don't plan to put down roots with these damn fools."  
  
Jale bared her teeth at him in a grin. "Good. They'd probably put you next to my quarters, and you'd bring that damn still with you."  
  
Tul humphed in reply and the two pirates settled to talk shop. Jalien felt alive again, connected to the galaxy once more. The Alliance tended to isolate itself, and focus solely on the next battle, the next foray. It was enough to depress a pirate to no end.  
  
Twenty minutes, and two more rounds later, Tul started rummaging through his pockets. Jale leaned on her hand and watch in interest as various wrenches, datapads, foil and other paraphernalia formed a growing pile in the middle of the table. "What are you looking for?"  
  
"Ah-ha!" He held up a second flask in triumph and grinned across the table at her. "Be right back."  
  
"Oh, now the 'droid's good enough?" Jale yelled at his back.  
  
"Not in the slightest," he retorted and pushed his way to the bar.  
  
Jalien laughed and shook her head. "Just don't start a brawl," she muttered.  
  
He returned shortly, comfortably sloshing both flasks. "Ah. Now a man can face the day." He began stowing everything back into his pockets. "Thank you kindly for the drinks, Jalien-dear, but if you don't mind, I think I'll return to my ship."  
  
Jalien leaned back and held her glass up in salute. "Happy hunting Tul."  
  
"You too C'tra." The grizzled pilot turned and left.  
  
Jale stared bemusedly at the door for a moment, idly tossing back the rest of her drink. Then she stood, casually stretched (to the amusement of the males in the room), picked up the datapad Tul had left on the table, and walked out the opposite door.  
  
Well, she though, who knew Tul would become a courier for the 'Line?  
  
She unlocked her quarters with a thumbprint and keyed it closed behind her. Her quarters were much like her, flashy and cluttered. She strode back into the sleeping alcove, sweeping scarves off the light fixtures as she passed. Shoving the covers into a backrest, she sat, cross-legged, on the bed.  
  
In a matter of seconds she was into the meat of the information on the pad.  
  
Duncan Too'lite  
  
Current whereabouts: Unknown  
  
Last rumored location: Torgus City, Valun Prime, Grien…  
  
There was a list of five other cities, all notorious within certain circles of the galaxy, except for one. Torgus City was a megacoglomerate – high tech all the way, with all the dark parts swept into small corners and plush offices. Jalien dismissed all the eight locations from her mind. If all the Pipeline, the most extensive organization in the galaxy specializing the moments of smugglers, pirate, bounty hunters and other "undesirables", could find was rumors, then she didn't have a prayer of discovering a thing on her own. Jale's strong suit was ships, not information. She'd be locked up in somewhere she really didn't want to be within ten minutes on her own. At least she had the intelligence to know it. Hell, that was way she'd called the 'Line.  
  
The 'Line was better than its word or its reputation; it had to be. Given that it could practically track anyone with dubious connections almost anywhere, they had to be. Oh, they'd sell out a pirate to a pirate for the right price (and what a price!), but never to an Imperial or any other "official" type. They did have a reputation to maintain and even the collective anger of several hundred pirates, smugglers, bounty hunters and other flotsam of the universe would be hard to deflect.  
  
Last know base of operations: Callwyn.  
  
The large asteroid that held their last base didn't have much in the way of physical attractions.  
  
… no inhabitants found by the Imperial Strike Team… did discover a rather extensive computer system destroyed. Imperials operative failed to find anything of note…  
  
Well, at least it confirmed that Breke and Duncan did their jobs, slagged the systems and bogeyed out of there. The computer system on Callwyn had been the most extensive by far. It had been Breke's pride and joy – it broke his heart to fry it to pieces. And enraged Duncan.  
  
… recovered several vehicles… two KVX sledge runners, four GRP speeder bikes… one V9KN stock freighter…  
  
"Damn," she swore under her breath. The Crimson Lady had been her favorite ship; fast, light, moved like a dream. She still needed improvement, but she was a work in progress. Jalien would have flown her out, or made Fancy do it, if she hadn't been dry docked at the time. In her last "encounter" the Lady took some serious hits, frying the navi computer, and blowing the main hyper drive. It had taken six hours to work the calculations by hand to get them back to base via the back up hyper drive. Once there, the ramp had barely hit the ground before she was out and raging. It had taken Duncan almost two hours to calm her down.  
  
Damn, she was going to miss that ship.  
  
The entry continued to detail the rest of the Imperials' confiscated goods. It wasn't much, in the larger picture, even if the individual losses hurt.  
  
Michel Alborlon  
  
Jalien's hand tightened around the datapad. What the hell! Why would the line give her information on that sleazed yakum?  
  
Last know whereabout: uncertain  
  
Suspected: Imperial Station orbiting Cassens, Kessle spice mines  
  
Rumor: Crin Station, Galbreth, Rinan, Megwin  
  
And that was all. No other information. Not the ship he was driving, or who he'd last associated with. Not even anything about Duncan, and that was the only info Jalien had asked the 'Line to hunt for her. So, why would they send her the suspected (which carried only slightly more weight than rumored) whereabouts of a two-bit hood who didn't even have the decency to remain loyal to the money Duncan paid him?  
  
So, he betrayed them to the Imperials on a raid once, and then disappeared in the ensuing firefight? And, so, once they'd fled the two corvettes she'd sworn to roast his hide over a slow burning laser wielder? It wasn't like she'd really meant it. Besides, that was over a year ago, and hunting people was Sturrick's job, not hers.  
  
She shook her head, and continued down the entry. The comm. panel beeped and she leaned over the slap the receive button again. "What?"  
  
"hello to you too." Sturrick's voice rasped over the link. Jalien winced and waited for the static to clear.  
  
"You still there?" Sturrick asked after several seconds.  
  
"Yeah. What's up?"  
  
"We're getting a game of sabbac going. Wanna join?"  
  
Jalien rolled her eyes. "Thank you, no. Get another patsy for tonight, will ya? I wanna hold on to my credits. Was that the only reason you called?"  
  
"Pretty much."  
  
"Bored huh?"  
  
"Pretty much."  
  
She laughed. "So, tell me. What did you do to Mr. Clean-cut Rebel this morning?"  
  
"Why Jalien. I simply invited him to a friendly game of markmenship."  
  
"Uh-huh. How many did you put between his legs."  
  
"Three. Singed the hair right off his balls." Smug satisfaction flooded his voice.  
  
"Oh, every the diplomat. Maybe I'll be by in a while."  
  
He sighed. "Okay." Then a pause. "Hey, lieutenant Lemon, how about a friendly game of sabbac?"  
  
Oh, way to win friends and influence people 'rick, she thought. She heard the blustery sounds of the overweight lieutenant as 'rick shut down the line. Lt. Lemon just hadn't been the same since she and 'rick abandoned him on the leper planet, Deadamedi. The mission had gone to hell, the Empire was due to land in a matter of hours, and the good lieutenant had left them alone. So, the did what any self-respecting low-life would do – they bugged out.  
  
She turned back to the datapad. Well, no shock, the 'Line didn't know where Breke was either; after all he and Breke were together.  
  
The next entry beeped when she tried to access it. Enter code. Jalien stared at it for a few moments. Then that message disappeared, only to be replaced with Come one babe, you know the one. And a nine pointed start flashed by some quickly she almost missed it.  
  
Duncan?  
  
Quickly she popped open the keyboard and entered the code. It was the one Duncan designed expecially for her, and only they two knew it.  
  
The screen scrambled, then –  
  
See, Breke, I told you she'd remember. And don't go running after the courier C'tra. He won't know anything.  
  
Breke and I are fine. You better be too. Whatever possessed you to join those damn fools I can't imagine. Well, maybe I can.  
  
Watch out C'tra, or your bounty will exceed mine, and that will never do. That actress didn't look a bit like you. Although I really have to know who that kid was you were chasing through the pleasure ship. Looks like he led you a merry chase. Did you kill him when you caught him? I can't wait to hear the stories.  
  
Anyway, I heard you had the Pipeline search. Called in the one of the markers from Rorik, huh? Nice you know you care darling, but they won't find me. But, don't call off the search, that would look wrong. You always were loyal Jale, one of the things I love about you.  
  
Sorry about the change in plans. Stay where you are. You've got a better shot there at the moment. I'm not shutting you out, darling. Trust me. And watch your back. I'd hate to go through both the Empire and the Alliance to get your body back.  
  
"And how am I suppose to get yours?" she whispered.  
  
Stay safe C'tra. We got some guns running in the galaxy, and not everything is as it seems. Do good work Jale.  
  
The datapad dropped with a thump to the bed. What the hell was goingon? Ten million questions raced through her mind, none of them staying for more than a nanosecond. After an incredously moment or two, she snatched up the pad and cycled back to Duncan's last entry. Already the first entries were erasing. Soon Duncan's messge would be gone as well.  
  
A second and then third time ensured that every word was etched in her memory. Soon after that all entries were gone and the internal circuits would begin to fuse.  
  
"Damn!" she shouted to the empty room, and hurled the pad across the room. After glaring at it for several seconds, she launched herself off the bed, snatched the pad up and stalked out the door. Minutes later she marched into the firing range, slapped the pad against a dummy and sent it sliding backwards. At least I can get some target practice, she thought with satisfaction as the first bolt caused the datapad to smolder. "Damn you Too'lite," she muttered and squeezed off another round. 


	4. Dagentia

1 Chapter 4 – Dagentia  
  
Hours later she joined Chedakki and Sturrick in the main café. "Yew. Stew again?" She made a face and sat.  
  
"Yup." The sandy haired bounty hunter ate heartily, while Chedakki picked at his food.  
  
"You'd think an autochef would have better capabilities. I could have made this, or better yet, "he pointed a spoon at Jale, "you could have."  
  
"And what exactly is that suppose to mean?" She speared the last guber and whisked it away from another pilot with a wink.  
  
"Oh, nothing Jale, nothing at all."  
  
"He means you can't cook for shit," 'rick said between mouthfuls. "We'd starve if it was up to you."  
  
"Oh, and you're a master chef under the armor, I suppose?"  
  
"Could be. Better than you anyway."  
  
"How would you know? You've never seen me cook."  
  
"Exactly."  
  
Jalien settled for sticking her tongue out at him, and set to work on the food. A low rumble filled the room as various men and being talked. Here and there you could hear snatches of conversation about battles and the state of the war, but mostly it was common folk talking bout common things. The buzz differed from what she knew with her crew. Pirates tend to do things by extremes, quiet enough to hear a pin drop, or about ready to shake off the roof.  
  
She wondered what had happened to a few of the others, if any of them had wandered into the Alliance as well. She'd had few hours and could rationally think about Duncan again. Duncan must have his own connection to the Pipeline, to send her that message, but without any real information. The 'Line was useless now. Oh, she'd trust him all right – had trusted him completely for the last ten years and never regretted a moment of it (well, there was that time…). And when she did find him, she'd wring every last credit she'd spent out of his hide if it killed her.  
  
"Oh, hey." Jalien half stood to snag a pitcher from a passing droid. It chattered at her. "Well, then, go get another already. Jeez, you'd think this was for Mon Motha herself." The droid beeped indignantly once more, then swiveled away.  
  
Jalien laughed and turned to sit. She found Chedakki staring at her with his fork half raised. "What?"  
  
He calmly replaced the fork and folded his hands. "Tell me, " he said with studied restraint." Tell me, that sash did not come from where I think it did."  
  
"What?" She put the pitcher down and looked at the blue sash encircling her waist. "Did you really think I'd leave that little caper without a souvenir?"  
  
Chedakki stared at the fabric, and she could feel him trying to will it away. "Jalien, Melissa was an evil Jedi. We have no idea how deep into the Dark Side she was, and what effect that might – "  
  
"Chek, enough already. The seduction of the Dark Side, yadda, yadda, yadda. First, I'm not a Jedi, so that's not my concern. Second, I didn't go anywhere near that bitch after the hurt she put on me. I took this off once of the guys carrying the guns. Third, you feel the slightest Jedi twinge and I swear I'll burn it. Okay?"  
  
"Okay." The young Jedi shook his head. "You have strange tastes Jale."  
  
"Worse men than you have told me that."  
  
"And I shudder at the mere thought. Don't forget the briefing tomorrow." He stood to leave, his dinner forgotten in his agitation.  
  
She gave him a puzzled look.  
  
"You do remember. The briefing at 0800?"  
  
Jalien's mouth fell open. "I agreed to an 0800 – in the morning – briefing? What was I, drunk?"  
  
"Chedakki smiled. "No. It was a superior officer."  
  
"Evil words, evil words." The pirate shuddered. "So, 'rick," she turned to the bounty hunter, "are you finally joining us? Or have they given you the Golden Peeler and promoted you to Ajohn's assistant?"  
  
KP duty awaiting them upon their return from their, ah, "evacuation" of Deadamedi. She'd jumped at the chance to rescue Chedakki from Melissa a month afterwards, simply to get the hell out of the kitchen. And save a dear friend, of course. Sturrick, on the other hand, took one look at the mission, saw it for the suicide run it pretty much was and opted out. Better potatoes than dead.  
  
He snorted. "Apparently. I may be a pain in the ass, but I'm the best damn fighter they have and they know it." Modesty wasn't his strong suit. "Besides, I can walk away anytime I choose."  
  
"Oh, and the Imperial bounty on your head does nothing to deter you?" Chedakki asked, linger for this last exchange.  
  
"Hell, it only adds to the rep. Hey, pie!" 'rick grapped slice from a passing tray. "Shit. They can't even make a decent berry pie." He threw the piece down in disgust.  
  
"Oh sits the might warrior."  
  
"Watch it Jalien – I haven't see you in the gym recently."  
  
"Your point being?"  
  
"If you talk the talk, make sure you can walk the walk."  
  
"Meaning I don't walk?"  
  
"Meaning, you've crashed every fucking ship you've touched – "  
  
"They weren't my fault!"  
  
" – been nailed in every fire fight – "  
  
"Not every one!"  
  
" – and have the worst luck of any woman I've met."  
  
"So, whaddya gonna do about it?"  
  
"Drag you to the gym."  
  
Jalien stared at him. "Excuse me?" she asked and wondered how she'd backed herself into this corner.  
  
"Come on pirate. Time for an education." He stood and moved towards her.  
  
"Oh, no. Stay away from me Sturrick." She lurched out of the chair, and straight into a table.  
  
"I'm going to make sure you're finally standing after a fight." He lunged, crossing the four feet of space separating them with lightening quickness. For a big man, he moved fast. Jalien managed to turn partly away, but 'rick snagged a wrist. With a heft, he lugged her over one shoulder and turned for the door.  
  
"Sturrick, put me down!" Heads turned at the indignant shriek, and plenty saw Jalien slap him upside the head.  
  
And saw his response – a ringing crap to her ass.  
  
"Hey!"  
  
"Hit me, I hit back. Wanna try again?" He grinned.  
  
"No." She looked beseechingly at Chedakki, then glowered. The young man had collapse back into his chair, wracked by giggles. He weakly waved a hand at her appeal.  
  
"Have fun," he managed to choke out.  
  
"Thanks for the help you fumbled-fingered, dip-brained, somber-coated, oh- please-capture-me-again numb nut!"  
  
The café door closed on the last of the tirade. Jalien sighed. "So, how about you put me down and I walk to the gym?"  
  
"Nope."  
  
She knew that tone. "Shit."  
  
**************************************************************************** ******  
  
Two hours later, she stumbled into her rooms and fell full-length on the bed. "The man is a sadist," she said the ceiling. She'd just started debating the pros and cons of actually undressing and taking a shower – again – or just lying there until her bones turned to ash, when the comlink in her ear crackled.  
  
"Well, did you make it back okay?"  
  
"No thank to you, you smug bastard," she said tiredly "What are you doing – laps?"  
  
Sturrick laughed. "No. Actually, I'm meeting what's-her-name, the tall, blonde controller – "  
  
"Jamie."  
  
"Yeah, Jamie – we're meeting in ten. I just wanted to back sure you made it in. I'd hate to have to walk over your unconscious body on our way to my quarters."  
  
"Nice to know you care. What say next time we practice my aim with you as the target?"  
  
"You still wouldn't hit anything."  
  
"Oh, but it could be soooo much fun to try. See ya tomorrow. Out."  
  
She pulled the link from her ear and tossed it to a table. It missed by a good foot or more and bounced under a chair.  
  
"Lovely."  
  
**************************************************************************** *******  
  
In the conference room, a major sat and stared at his chronometer. Then the doorway. Then back again. Then he stared at the other two men. Both ignored him completely. One – the younger – sat in some mediatative trance. The other absently re-cleaned his ostentatious blaster rifle. All three looked up when the door finally slid open.  
  
"Morning boys. Sorry I'm late." Jalien sauntered in and chose a seat on the other side of the table. The major glared at her.  
  
"You do realize you are thirty minutes late?"  
  
"Yes," she answered calmly. "Hey, I was actually awake on time for once," she said in response to Chedakki's reproachful look. "Blame it on one of your precious refugees. He latched on to me and wouldn't let go."  
  
"And who would that be?" the major asked acidicly.  
  
"One Corbin Bended. I believe he's the son of the ex-senator you're trying to woo?"  
  
"Oh, well," the major blanched, the quickly shuffled his data chips and slid one into the projector. A holo sprang up in the middle of the table. "We have a relatively simple assignment for you." Not even you can screw this up, his tone said. Sturrick and Jalien rolled their eyes at the same time, while Chedakki gazed serenly at the rotating planet before him. "The three of you will travel to the planet Dagentia, pick up a load of supplies and return here."  
  
Chedakki snorted. The major looked up in annoyance. "You have something to say ensign?"  
  
"No sir. If you say it's an easy mission, it must be so. Why shouldn't it be? Every other mission so far has been just a dandy walk in the twilight."  
  
The major started a tirade about respect and loyalty and some other such nonsense. Jalien ignored him and Chedakki's point – the Alliance had a small habit so seriously underestimating certain situations. She even ignored the humor in her young friend's voice, something that usually earned him her own pointed support. Instead, she stared at the slowing turning vid.  
  
"Any how," Sturrick interrupted what was quickly turning into a ethically debate, "when do we leave?"  
  
The major humphed and turned back to the briefing pad. "Nineteen hundred hours tonight. Your ship is being prepped as we speak. Here are your chips." He slid three cubes across the table. "Review them on the way. Dagentia is a middle Rim planet, rich in agriculture and natural resources. The ruling Council is determined to keep the protected status any way possible. They were fairly comfortable under the Empire's heel for decades. They feed most of Coursica, which allowed them a lot of leeway. However, with the installation of a new Moff, even they have begun to feel the Empire's lash. We've only begun to make progress towards recruitment."  
  
Jalien snorted. "Good damn luck, " she muttered under her breathe.  
  
"And you're sending us into a delicate balance as envoys?" Chedakki asked at the same time.  
  
The major scowled. "No. We already have an envoy in place. You and your companions aren't to simply pick up the supplies and return them here. You will keep all contact with the natives to a mimumum."  
  
"So, where do we pick up these supplies? That's not a major trading post down there, you know." Jalien asked mildly.  
  
"Yes, ensign, we do. Our envoy will meet you when you land. You will know him by the code listed in your cubes. He will escort you to the supplies. Now, for the planet and its defenses…"  
  
Jalien tuned him out. Imagine that, returning to Dagentia after all this time. Wonder of wonders… 


	5. Welcome home

Chapter 5 – Welcome home 

Soon after she sat in the three-man cockpit, ticking off points on the pre-flight check.  It wasn't the best she'd ever flown, but it wasn't _the Ladybug_ either.  At least this ship had a shield.

"Here," Chedakki entered and tossed a data cube over her shoulder.  "You conveniently left this behind again."

She glanced at the cube in her lap and sighed quietly.  "This should be a smooth trip.  I glanced through it.  What more do you want?"

He slid into the co-pilot's chair.  "Just thought you might surprise me, and actually research a mission for once.  So, how long do you think the trip will take?"

"About ten hours or so.  The shipping lanes are fairly even, and we even have plausible papers if stopped, for once.  I hate trying to lie my way through customs.  Sturrick always shoots something. "

Chedakki smiled.  "The one solution to every problem."

Jale shrugged.  "We all have our strong points."

"So, you wanna tell me what set you off last night?"

She quirked an eyebrow.  "What?"  

He stopped fiddling with the controls and turned to her.  "Jale, I crossed your path on the way to the firing range before dinner.  You didn't see me, but your emotions fairly screamed along the Force.  What happened?"

She sighed again.  One of those pesky pitfalls of having a Jedi partner …   "It's personal Chek.  It won't get in the way of the mission."

"I didn't ask about the mission."

"I know.  Thank you, but don't worry about it.  I worked off the extra stream and there's not much more that can be done at the moment."

"Talking might be a relief, you know."

She chuckled.  "Who says I'm looking for relief?"

He stared at her for several moments; she grinned back and winked.  Then he threw up his hands.  "Fine.  Whatever.  Let me know when you're ready to talk."  The door slid shut with a small swoosh behind him.

Jalien turned back to the controls, checking off another point as the mechanic droned in her comm.-link. While Chedakki was open with his history, with the exception of any Jedi "secrets," she and Sturrick had a policy of keeping their past to themselves – "small" details and stories tended to come out during a firefight, or after several shots of good hooch.  Consequently, Duncan was only a passing name and she'd roast over an open flame before she gave up the 'Line sober.

And while Duncan had sizzled her hide well and good _("do good work," my ass!),_ she truly had calmed down.  Duncan did things in his own time, and only mostly while bothering to explain them to her.  She had ten years of experience to rely on.

No, Duncan wasn't the problem now.  

"I said, converter levels!" The com-link squawked in her ear. 

Jalien winced.  "Damn!  Not so loud!"

"What are you, asleep?"

Jalien bit her lip.  "No, thank you," she said sweetly and seethed.  The retort she wanted to give would only add hours on to the pre-flight check.  Mechanics had that power.  Additional hours on base was NOT part of her plan.  "Levels, 2.5.  Check."

"About damn time."  Grumbling, the mechanic continued.  Jalien rolled her eyes.  Lords, help her.  Behind her, movement signaled the arrival of Sturrick.  Damn, she had to decide – and quickly – what to tell her partners.  They were friends, and deserved some warning, even if the Alliance didn't.

They, at least, deserved to know a part of the _c'tranthu_.

************************************************************************************

An hour later, after a successful jump to hyperspace, Jale wandered back to where 'rick idly attempted to wheedle Chedakki into a game of sabbac.

"Um, guys?  We need to talk."

Chedakki looked up at the interruption, obviously relieved.  Sturrick raised an eyebrow and shuffled the cards. "Never good when a broad says that."

Chek frowned at the bounty hunter while Jalien flopped bonelessly into a chair and draped a leg over the arm.  "I vaguely remember the good major mentioning that the natives are stand-offish and we were to limit contact.  Correct?"

The men nodded.

"Well, as usual, the Alliance didn't provide us with nearly enough information.  Dagentia lives by a strict set of clans and castes.  Customs from 500 years ago dictate the actions of tomorrow, totally and rigidly.  Plus, as whole, down to the smallest child, they are completely and totally xenophobic.  They see all outworlders as corrupt, decadent and violent."

"Which is why the High Command sent us," Chedakki quipped.  "Oy."

"Hey, what's that mean?"  Sturrick said.

Chedakki rolled his eyes.

"Ah-em.  Boys?  Well, a Dagentian, even one corrupted by proximity to the spaceport, will treat you with the barest civility, thinly veiled arrogance and contempt.  So, don't fly off the handle."  She looked to Sturrick.

"What?!"

"Jale, how do you know this?"  Chedakki asked quietly.

Sturrick snorted.  "Please.  She came to us with a bounty on her head, you'll remember.  She probably wanted."

Jalien gave a sharp bark of laughter.  "Dagentia is the last place in the galaxy I'm wanted."

"So?"  Chedakki's eyes never left her face and she sighed.  

"I spent the first seventeen years of my life there."

The other two gaped.

"Clan is everything on this planet, and I do mean everything.  To declare a person part of the living dead, _c'tranthu_, is the ultimate punishment.  Everything is stripped from the offender – clan name, badge, honor.  From that day forward nobody will acknowledge that person.  Nobody."

"_C'tranthu_.  Is that anything like C'tra?" Chedakki asked gently.

"Damn straight."  A corner of Jalien's mouth quirked.  "Part of the reason I left over ten years ago and haven't looked back."  She shrugged.  "It's only a technicality, and personal pride, that I denounced them before they denounced me."

"So, you're saying everyone in your … clan will ignore you?"

"No.  I'm saying everyone on the planet will ignore me."

Both jaws dropped even more.  Sturrick's snapped shut first.  "How will they tell?  It's not like you wear a big, red 'C' on your chest, do you?"

"They'll figure it out, even if my last name didn't scream it to the winds.  And, I have no intention of changing anything."  She pinned Chedakki with a look.  "The way I move and talk, but without a clan badge…  Someone, somewhere will put the pieces together and the news will pass along with us.  They're damn perceptive when it comes to clan matters.  It's a native thing.  Trust me."

"Why didn't you tell Major Vann any of this?"

"It's none of his business, Chek.  Only Duncan, and now you two, know my home planet.  No one else has any need."

Chedakki frowned, this time in concern _with_ her, instead of _for_ her.  Jalien leaned into the seat and waited.

"Jale, you hold information that could help the Alliance in the negotiations with Dagentia."

"No, I don't.  Any information I have is over ten years old."

"You said yourself things don't change," he threw back.

"Look."  She sprang out of the chair, suddenly angry.  "I know you're Dedonna's grandson, and as completely dedicated to this _cause_ as any other fool out there.  But, _I do not have anything the Alliance can use_.  Final.  Period.  I won't endanger you, or Sturrick.  But, I'll be damned if I'll left some High Command shumck dig through my head for information that can't help in any way, shape or form."

She stopped and took a deep breath.  "I know you're just concerned, Chek.  For me and the Alliance.  But, they don't need the advice of this nefarious space pirate.  Not in this case.  I told you and Sturrick about the _c'tranthu_ so you don't go off the deep end when I turn into a non-entity.  Now, let it be."

She turned and stormed into the cockpit.  The boys stayed behind, thankfully, and she leaned against the bulkhead.  

_Damn_.  Remorse flooded through her.  Chedakki didn't deserve her anger; he was just trying to be helpful in that upright way of his.  It was just…. It was just everything – Duncan, these damn fools and their cause she was somehow supporting, and now, Dagentia – again.

She sighed and settled into the pilot's chair.  _Admit it_, she thought_, you _hate_ returning to that mudball, hate having to face the fact that even after ten years you haven't forgotten a thing…_

*********************************************************************************

"Come strap in boys.  We're pullin' out of hyperspace."

Jalien returned her attention to the ship around her.  Gods below, she missed flying everyday.  Nothing, _nothing_, was like the feel of a ship under her fingers, although sex ran a very close second.  Out here, she was everything and nothing – anything she wanted to be, and wanted to make of herself.  Freedom was heady (_if expensive_, she added wryly).

Behind her, the door swooshed gently and Sturrick and Chedakki entered, taking their normal spots.  Sturrick ran a last check on the weapons (what little there were), while Chedakki ran over the last internal readings.  She cocked her head at him.

"Sorry."

He glanced at her, and nodded.  She smiled and turned back to her own instruments.

Carefully she watched the navi computer, and pushed up on the lever at the proper time.  With a slight shudder the ship fell out of hyperspace.  Before them a blue and brown world rotated.  Jalien sighed slightly.  Over the last eight hours she'd worked herself into a state and calmed twice over.  _Lords, why couldn't Duncan be here?  _Mentally she slapped herself.  Pheff.  _Relying on a man.  The universe must be about to end._

The com beeped and she opened a channel.

"Zen-class freighter.  Identify yourself and purpose."  A tinny voice rang out.

"Freighter _Black Nebula_, registered to Van Koln.  Transmitting code now.  We're here to do business with a merchant, one Andyn On'dan ni Helma."

Control paused for a moment.  "You've been cleared _Black Nebula_.  Follow the coordinates to your berth.  We'll track you to ensure you don't get lost."

"How bloody helpful," she muttered, then spoke up through the link.  "Why, thank you Control.  Receiving coordinates now."  She disconnected the link when the last number logged into the computer.

"We'll be down in about a half, guys."

"Just try not to crash us."

She turned to glare at 'rick.  "Just because I'm bringing her in under manual does not mean she'll crash.  Now watch the view and shut up."  _Men_, she thought.  _Have a few mishaps, and they never let you forget it._

They landed uneventfully, even if the accommodations were as primitive as Tatooine. Jalien turned smugly to 'rick.  "Not even a bump, thank you."

"Yeah, well.  We'll see what happens when we try to leave."

She punched him in the shoulder, which he shrugged off.  "Oh, I'd like to see you fly us out of a Star Destroyer…"

The normal bickering continued outside the ship.  "Shut up you two," Chedakki interrupted.  "Someone's coming."

A short, thin man calmly walked through the archway.  "You made good time," he said.  "My brother said he would send you at sunset."

"Well, a night ride is always a good thing," Sturrick answered. "You must be Dal Brin."

"At your service."  He offered his hand to each of them.  "And you must be Sturrick, Chedakki Dedonna and Jalien C'tra.  Welcome to Dagentia."

"Thank," Jalien said dryly.

Chedakki shot her a look, but she had plastered her bland-rebel-officer look on her face.

"Come on.  There's been a slight change in plans."  Brin turned to lead them away.

Chedakki rolled his eyes.  "Why am I not surprised… This is a simple supply run.  What changes?"

"The Council decided it needed to met a few 'regular' Alliance personnel."  He glanced dubiously at the double-barrel blaster rifle 'rick slung over his shoulder.  "They thought this would be convenient time."

Jalien snorted.  "Oh, we're 'average' alright."

"The Council would like each of you to introduce yourself, and give a brief explanation why you joined the Alliance."

"So, you're hauling us up before some jury?" Sturrick asked.

"I wouldn't call it a jury, but you are speaking to a governing body."

"Wonderful."

The four of them entered the marketplace proper and joined the crowd.  There were predominantly more humans than normally found in a trading post.

"We will stop first at Merchant Andyn's to arrange the loading of the supplies.  Then on to the Council Chambers," Brin said above the din.

Chedakki dropped beside Jalien.  "What are you going to say?"

"Oh, I doubt I'll say anything."

"Jalien – "

Two men in leather jerkins roughly shoved between the Rebel fighters.

"Hey!"  Chedakki turned in outrage, his hand moving instinctively towards the lightsaber missing at his back.  Jalien noted the movement.  _At least he's starting to react as he should_, she thought.  Jalien was smugly proud to think that she and 'rick had taught their young friend somewhat he couldn't learn from _the Force_.  Too bad about that lost lightsaber.  She was all for "finding" him a new one.  Chedakki swore he had to make it himself.

One of the two men looked back, sneered and continued walking.  Jalien blew him a kiss and licked her lips.  The native visibly recoiled in outrage and turned so fast he ran into his companion.  

Beside her Chedakki sighed. "Why did you do that?"

She shrugged. "Because I can."

Chedakki sighed again.  

Moments later the arrived at Andyn's shop.  Brin ducked inside and returned quickly, and motioned them around the corner.  Six obvious guards and a man in much better quality, if still bland, robes waited for them.  

Brin bowed deeply to the official, while the our heroes exchanged dubious glances over the "honor guard."  

"We are honored by your presence Lord Tristnan.  My I present Ensigns Sturrick, Chedakki Dedonna and Jalien C'tra.  All three are decorated officers within the Alliance."

"My greetings."  Lord Tristnan inclined his head slight.  Chedakki bowed in response, and elbowed 'rick in the ribs to follow.  "Ambassador, I am pleased to meet two such fine representatives of your cause, and am only saddened the third could not join us.  Shall we adjourn to the Council Hall?"

Brin blinked in confusion.  Jalien took pity on him and laid a hand on his shoulder.  "Save your breathe Dal.  Death couldn't force him to acknowledge me, and you have much less power than the Lady."  She moved directly in front of Tristnan.  "_Nae'tranth guale._"  Executing a short, mocking bow she turned on her heel.  

"If you need me, I'll be in the bar."


	6. Into the looking glass

Chapter 6 – Into the looking glass 

Jalien sat with her head pillowed on her hands, staring into a swirling mix of green liquid.  Dillipian Flu, the bartender (living, not a droid) called it.  It didn't nearly have the kicked that Blue Turtles did.  She'd sampled two (or was it three) of each so far.  Unfortunately, the buzz she'd only just begun wasn't nearly worth the price.  _Maybe I should return to the ship and rifle through Sturrick's bags for his flask,_ she mused.

With a resigned sigh she started to reach for the glass.  A body settling into the chair opposite her made her look up instead.  A Dagentian… in _serren_ clothing?

She paused the action, reversed the movement and rested her chin in her palm.

The man slid one of two mugs across to her.  "You'll never get drunk on alien piss like that."  He lifted his mug.

Jalien automatically caught her own mug and matched his salute.  "Have they declared you _c'tranthu_ as well Rygan?"

"No."  Rygan took a healthy swig and cradled his mug in both hands.  Then he pinned Jalien with his eyes."  What are you doing back here?"

She took her own sign and raised her brows.  "Your own brew.  I'm honored."

"Answer the question girl," he growled.

"The High command ordered me to fly here, I flew here."

"Motive?" he snapped.

"None," she snapped back.  "I'm exactly what I say I am old man – a pirate given a commission.  I was _ordered_ here and I _usually_ follow those orders.   And, not that I'm ungrateful for a decent drink, but what in all the little devils are you doing here?  As I seem to recall, I'm still dead."

Rygan was expressionless.  "We need to know why you've returned."

"I _told_ you that."

"We also want to know what you are."

That elected another bark of laugher.  "What am I?"  She leaned forward and rested both arms on the table.  "I am a pirate, Rygan, a woman who has danced with Star Destroyers and won, who has ambushed shady freighters, slave drivers and managed to laugh at all of them.  I'm tagging along with these Rebels for the moment, and for the moment, they've bought my loyalty.  _That_ is who I am, old man; amoral, cocksure, willing-to-do-anything-to-save-my-own-hide pirate to the bone.  Now, why are you breaking centuries of traditional, risking the _duceth_ yourself to talk with me?"

"Because you are all that and more."  He leaned forward, matching her posture.  "You are _asheeya_."

Jalien shook her head and leaned back, forcing a relaxed pose.  "Rygan, I was never really a good clan-member – _asheeya - _ even before the _c'tranthu_.  I am _serren_ – outworlder – through and through."

A small grin tipped the older man's mouth.  "So, you wouldn't come if your _Sheche_ called?"

Jalien matched his grin.  "If I wouldn't answer my clan-father before, why in all the hells would I now?"

Rygan's grin grew.  "Because, now he's your brother.  And he's calling."

Jalien looked around and suppressed a shudder.  Ten years, and somehow how she was back in the heart of the clan that cast her out.  _Duncan would kill me if he could see me now_, she thought.  The small solare Rygan left her in hadn't changed in ten years – not one damn thing.  That scare her about her native culture – they became so bound by tradition, stubbornness and sheer stoicism, they never moved, never experienced life.  Once again, she renewed her vow to have a blaster bolt through her head if she ever became a true Dagentian – _asheeya_.

She swiveled when the door behind her opened, her hand automatically dropping to the butt of her blaster pistol.

A tall, young, dark-haired man stood in the doorway.  He stared at her, then slowly opened his arms and walked forward.  "I'm unarmed," he said, looking at her intently.

At his voice a shock ran through her.  "Lords, below," she breathed and her hand dropped limply from the gun.  "You've got his voice."

"And you have Mother's eyes."  He smiled and Jalien saw her own grin in his face.  "Welcome sister."

"My God, Colin."  She crossed the room slowly.  Tentatively she raised a hand to his cheek, but pulled away just before touching him.   "You've grown up."

His smiled turned a little sad, but she saw understanding in his eyes.  He didn't move to close the distance between them, but did move further into the room and sat in one of the chairs clustered by the windows.  "Come.  Sit.  I won't bite."

"Worse men than you have told me that," she replied, then winced.  Fortunately, he was amused and she shrugged.  

"C'tra, huh?"

"If you got it, flaunt it."  She dropped into the chair set at an angle from his and looked fully into his face.  _He's exhausted_, she thought.  Stress lines marked his eyes and mouth.  An uncomfortable silence reigned.  Jalien cleared her throat.

"Colin, why did you call me?  When did you become _Sheche_?"

Colin reached to the tray on the table and poured two goblets of wine.  "Father died two years ago.  He named me Heir when I was 15.  It took nearly all of those three years after you left to convince him that I wasn't going to disgrace him either.  And it took another seven to prove me right."

Jalien took a deep breath and let it out slowly.  "Gods, Colin, I'm sorry.  I never thought about what he'd do to you after I left.  After all, it was just me defying him, the Circle and everything else _asheeya_ stands for."

Colin shrugged.  "I actually understood.  It took several years, by the way, but eventually I understood.  I was only twelve when you left, sister, and I hated you.  No-one would tell me anything, only that you were dead, when I distinctly remembered you walking into the Circle chamber.  But, hate only lasts so long.  And eventually I remembered.  How you longed for something more, the beatings he gave you, your desire to be something … different. 

"It wasn't until the day they named me Clan-Father that I fully understood.  There I stood, all of twenty years old, stepping into a centuries old position, with all the accompanying weight and responsibility.  Plus, they all waited to see how I would react, would I falter in a decision, what could they wrangle from me.  Father made some powerful enemies on the Circle."

"And not many friends as I seem to recall.  That was why he wanted me in the Daughter's role.  But, did we come here to discuss old politics, Colin?"

"Partly."  He drank from his goblet.  Jalien sipped hers, beginning to regret the Dippy Flu, or whatever the hell it was earlier.  The buzz was wearing off, and the wine didn't sit right with it.

"I need to know what you think of the Empire."

"They're good for business," she quipped first.  Then she caught his look.  "You're serious."

He nodded.

"Well, then.  The Empire makes for good business for pirates on a winning spree, and bad business for pirates they catch.  Most of us go to the spice mines, if we're not killed outright, all our property taken, and our friends destroyed.  But, that's my life.  I walked into it freely, understanding what it is I do.  

"And they do it to everyone Colin, not just pirates.  I've seen honest-as-the-day-is-long freighters driven to piracy, smuggling or worse due to over-taxation, or just being in the wrong place at the wrong time.  Only half the occupants of the spice mines are pirates who 'deserve' to be there; the rest are political casualties.  The Empire takes what it wants, when it wants and be damned to what the rest of the galaxy may think about it.  They crush people, lives and planets alike, with little malice, little thought, and little effort.

"Even on Dagentia you must have heard about Alderran."

 Colin frowned.  "We heard.  But, we thought it was a rumor, a story dreamt up to terrify back-worlders."

Jalien gazed out the window at the courtyard before them.  "No story, brother.  There's a nice asteroid field littering the space lane that use to be Aldderran.  The Empire obliterated it simply because it could, simply to make Princess Leia talk.  Anybody with that much power _can't_ be right."

Jalien shook herself, and took a deep gulp of wine.  _Where did that little bit of introspection come from?_

Colin stared into his wine cup.  "You've confirmed everything I suspected, sister.  Palpadine left Dagentia alone when he first came to power.  We fed most of Coursanct, and we walled ourselves off nicely from the rest of the galaxy.  But, now, I fear we are too valuable a commodity to be allowed to rule ourselves and to trade with whomever we desire.  And so the pressure has increased in recent years.  

"The Circle is dithering, undecided on any course of action, hoping that the old days will come again, while the rest of us bicker amongst ourselves;  which path do we take, the Empire or the Rebellion?"

Jalien stared at him.  "You've debated this in open Circle?"

"Yes, of course.  Any decision must come from the Circle."

Wine sloshed over her hand as she thrust the goblet back onto the table.  Her left hand flew to the com-link in her ear.  "Sturrick, come in.  Sturrick.  Chedakki.  Answer me!"

Only the crackle of static sounded in her ear.  "Shit.  Chedakki, dammit, come in!"  She turned to Colin.   "They – _you_ – haven't installed any dampeners in this monstrosity since I left, have you?"

"No."  He looked at her puzzledly.

"Shit, shit, shit, shit, shit!"  _Breathe, C'tra_.  "This 'meeting' the Circle requested – where is it?  And why aren't you there?"

"I had decided to base my decision on your answers, Jalien."

"Remind me to ask why again later.  And the location."

"In the Circle Chamber, of course."

_Breathe, breathe – aw screw it_.  She shot to her feet and rounded on him.  "You've openly debated rebellion, and then proceeded to march my friends into an open Circle cession, _as Rebel officers?_  Come on."  She dragged him out his chair by a fistful of tunic.

"What - !"

"Take me to the Circle Chamber."  She pushed him towards the door.

He dug in his heels and twisted easily out of her grip.  "What are you doing?" He drew up with all the arrogance bred into an asheeya.  

"No one – I mean _no one_ – openly talks rebellion in the Empire these days, _Sheche_," she sneered.  "You most likely just marched my friends into an ambush.  Take me to the Circle Chamber.  Now."

He blinked.  "What – "

She pushed him again, and he stumbled.  "They don't call them stormtroopers for nothing, Colin.  Open talk of rebellion will only land a battalion on your planet real fast as a 'peace-keeping' force.  I'll lay good money that word of your little 'meeting with real-life rebel fighters' has not gone unnoticed.  After all, it's not like you've tried to hide it, apparently.  Now, move."

She could actually see the wheels turn in his head and watched the blood drain from his face.  She shoved him again towards the door, and this time he continued moving without added prodding.  

The door opened before them.  Jalien stuck her head out and looked up and down the corridor.  Completely quiet.  In her ear the com-link still hissed faintly.

"I've got a bad feeling about this."


	7. Welcome to my life

Chapter 7 – Welcome to my life

Jalien's breath hissed and she consciously dropped her hand from the butt of her blaster pistol.  Shooting her way into the Circle Chamber was not the best of ideas.  "Come on _Sheche_," she jerked her head.  "Lead the way.  And try not to look quite so suspicious, can you?"

"What should I look like," he asked sourly.  "It's not every day that storm-troopers overrun the Council Hall."

"Well, we don't know that they've overrun the place.  Just look arrogant.  You should be able to do that well. Oomph."  With a little thud she walked into Colin's back.

He turned to face her and raised a hand to her eyes.  "You have Mother's violet eyes.  But, you really don't have anything else of us, do you?"

She swallowed.  "This conversation requires much more than the two seconds we have now.  No, I'm not _asheeya_. I never was.  Am I bitter?  You damn well better believe it.  But, I do have _asheeya_ loyalty to those who earn it.  Sturrick and Chedakki did that a long time ago.  Now, can I make sure they're okay?  You can look disapprovingly upon me later.  I take it the Circle Chamber is still on the top floor?"

"Aye."  He led the way to the lifts.  Emptiness greeted them when the blast doors opened.  Jalien wracked her brain, trying to image the Empire's next move.

"So, what do we do if we do run into storm-troopers?"  

She stared at Colin as they moved into lift.  That was just weird.  "Shoot and run, I guess."

He stared back.  "Shoot and run.  That's your grand plan."

"Hey.  I never claimed to be good at strategy.  I fly for a living.  Not plan guerilla tactics.  But, even I know that we won't be able to bluff our way past them.  We don't exactly make a natural pair, you know."

"Huh."  He grunted back.

Nervously, Jale watched the numbers flicker as the lift crawled up.  Four.  Five.  Six.  She found herself urging the numbers on and cursing the Dagentian's fear of technology.  It was only ten floors, for lord's sake.  How long could it take?

"Relax."  Colin's voice cut through her increasing agitation.  "I thought you Rebels did this kind of thing all the time."

She snorted.  "Some of us do it better than others.  I'm not a covert op kinda gal."

Eight. Nine. Ten.

The lift rumbled to a stop and the doors slid open.  Another empty corridor.

Colin turned and raised an eyebrow at her.  Jalien felt her own eyes tighten in response.   That look she knew all too well; only she usually bestowed it.

With a little bow, she gestured him out first, then made a face at his back.  

Plush, expensive rugs cushioned their footfalls.  The ceiling-to-floor windows on the right side allowed for a magnificent view of the north side of the city and the mountains in the distance.  Conveniently, the spaceport was built on the south side.

To the left, busts of previous clan-fathers lined the wall.  Jalien could almost feel the disapproval radiating from them.  Her steps dragged about three-quarters of the way down the hall.  Then they stopped.

On her last journey down this hall, her grandfather held this place.  Now her father's eyes stared back at her.  Thoughts of storm troopers, Star Cruisers and rebel causes flew right out of her head.  

"Bastard," she whispered.

"I remember thinking that if you were a better daughter, then he wouldn't hit you."  Colin returned to her side.  "Then I thought, if I was a better son, he wouldn't hit you.  Then… then you were gone."

She swallowed.  "Did he do the same to you?"

He shook his head.  "The occasional back-hand or slap to emphasize a point.  But never the way he beat you.  When I grew up, I realized it wasn't you or me. It was him.  Something in him never understood you.  Never understood anything he didn't ordain.  And he only knew one response."

Memories flooded through Jalien's mind.  _Dead women wear no clan badge…_ his voice whispered through the years.  "Damn right they don't," she muttered.

With a visible shake, she pulled her mind back and raised her hand to her ear piece.  A small smile played about her mouth.  "You know, if he hadn't beat quite so badly that last time, I would have stayed and been the dutiful Daughter.  He has no-one to blame but himself."

Colin looked at her in surprise.  "Daughter?  Of the First House?"

"Long story brother.  One we don't have time for now.  Come on.  I need to get my friends."

With a distinctive one fingered salute she turned and continued down the corridor.  Large, intricately carved double doors sealed the Chamber entrance.  Before them stood two ceremonial guardsmen – complete with dulled lances and no energy weapons.  Jalien rolled her eyes and moved forward.  Only to find her way blocked by those same dulled lances.

"Hey!"

Colin laid a hand on her shoulder.  "I have business with the Circle."

The guard had the grace to look uncomfortable, but the lances didn't move.  "Apologies, _Sheche_.  However, we have direct orders.  No one comes in or out until _Aulend_ Trem allows it."

Jale growled and turned to Colin.  The growl died.  Before her eyes, her brother became her father at his most arrogant.  Amazing.

"And that order applies to the Clan-Father of the Gaulden?" he asked softly.

The guard squirmed, but held his ground.  Jale had to give him points for that, even while she desperately wanted to kick him in the shins.  The com-link still hissed faintly in her ear.

"You will – "

"Halt!"  A mechanical voice cut Colin off.

Jalien groaned and cringed.  "Gods, I hate it when I'm right."  At the other end of the corridor, an Imperial officer, complete with several storm-troopers exited the lift.

"Time to go, Col."  She grabbed Colin's arm, ducked under the lances and shoved open the doors.

"Ooph."  They didn't budge.  A suspicious gleam caught the corner of her eye.  "A lock?!  Since when has the Circle put a _lock_ on the door?

"A few years back – "

"Shadda up.  It was a rhetorical question."

"I said halt!"

Jale turned to see blaster rifles rising to the ready.

"Open it!"

"We should talk first – "

"Arrghh."  With an inarticulate cry, she drew her blaster pistol and fired on the storm-trooper officer.  The return fire finally startled the _guards_ out of their shock.  They quickly dropped to the ground in the fetal position.

"Wonderful.  Fat lot of help you two are."  Jalien dodged as a bolt scorched the door beside her head.  With a rough shove she pushed Colin to the locking mechanism.  "_Open it_."

Shaking, he punched several buttons.  "I can't remember…"

"Keep trying."  _Lords, Chek right now would be a good time for you to start reading minds…_  "Son of a bitch!"  Agony flared briefly as a bolt tore her left arm.  Wildly she fired three shots back.  None of them had a prayer of hitting anything.  She just wanted them to back off.  

Desperately, she hammered on the door at her side.  "Sturrick!"

Another bolt sheered off part of the wall by Colin's face.  He froze, eyes wide.

"The code!" she snarled.  And fired back, trying to hit one trooper who'd ventured further down the hall then his compatriots.   A very satisfying scorch mark appeared on his armor.  Unfortunately, he kept firing.

"Damn it!  Sturrick!"

Suddenly, the door opened at her side, and she fell through the doorway in a heap.  A double-barreled blaster rifle appeared over her head, making several storm troopers scramble.  A brown clad figure pulled Colin in as Jale was hauled quite ungently into the room herself.

"Ow!  The arm! The arm!  The arm!"

"That's what you get for getting yourself shot."  Sturrick slammed the door shut, just ahead of a hail of blaster fire.  "Didn't you tell _us_ not to antagonize people?"

"In case you didn't notice, those are storm-troopers.  Shit!  Get the damn medikit, would you?"

Sturrick grinned evilly.  "In my pack.  On the ship."

Jalien glared.  "I hate you.  You _always_ have your pack."

"No.  I always have my rifle.  You're going to have to suck it up for now."

"Chedakki?"  she whined.

He shrugged apologetically.

"Shit."

"What in all the devils is going on?"  A commanding voice cut across the usual banter between the partners.

"That's actually what we would like to know, _Aulend_."  Brin approached them, shock and anger written across his face.  With him, came an older man dressed in formal Dagentian robes, a gold circlet gleaming at his throat.

Jalien held out her uninjured arm to Sturrick, who (once again) hauled her upright.  "Colin, you alright?"

Her brother nodded, shaking visibly.  She glanced at Chedakki for confirmation.  Then, with a sigh she turned back to the irate rebel superior and Clan Security Chief.

"That would be a fire fight between me and the Imperial storm-troopers arriving to arrest my friends and all of you in this room."

"What!"  Brin screeched, just several unmistakable _thuds_ vibrated the door at her back.

"And, " she drawled, "that would be them now, trying to get in.  I suggest we all leave and discuss the ramifications later."

While the rebel diplomat sputtered, the other man stared into her face.  Then, he rounded on Colin.  "_Sheche_?"

"It's as she says, Trem.  There are several men in armor back there.  Soon," he winced at another, particularly loud, thud.  "Soon, they will be in here."

Beside Jalien, Sturrick shifted.  She could almost watch the wheels turn in his blond head as he evaluated the room, looking for the best way out.  His eyes latched onto the floor to ceiling windows covering half the room.  "I guess we could bust open one of those, and climb…"

"I don't think that will be necessary, will it _Aulend_?"  Jalien walked up to the older man.  The seven other Dagentians in the room stared at her with a mixture of fascination and disgust.  "After all, I can't imagine that the one place on this planet were all five Clan-Fathers, and their respective heads of security, come together doesn't have a few boltholes.  Isn't that correct _Aulend_ Trem?" 

He sneered and turned his back on her.  Jalien laughed, bitterly.  "Fine.  'rick, blast us own bolthole, will you?  I don't think that door will last much longer."

The husky bounty hunter raised an eyebrow, and then the rifle.

"Wait."  Another man stepped forward.  "She has a point.  Trem, do as she says."  With hard eyes, he turned to Jalien.  "It appears you have landed us quite nicely with the Rebel Alliance now."

"I was just trying to not get my ass shot off, _Sheche_ Galen.  I actually don't care which way this damn planet decides to swing."

He humphed. "Seeing you is a surprise."

Jalien laughed.  "Ever the master of understatement, godfather.  You must have known I was planet-side."

"Yes.  But, I didn't not expect to see you, here of all places."  He gestured around the brightly lit room.

Jalien's eyes followed the sweep of his hand, taking in the hangings on part of the walls, the natural light streaming in through the windows – and the Imperials trying to hammer their way in through the door at her back.  No, here was the _last_ place she'd every expected to be again.  "At least this time I get to leave with my clothes on," she muttered.  She was doing a lot of that nowadays.

Trem removed one of the hangings and waited.  All the while shooting dangers at Jalien.  She waved back.

The other _sheche_ and _aulend_ waited for Galen.  The senior Clan-Father stared at her.  The door shuddered.

Finally, Sturrick snorted.  "You fools can stand around all day, and wait to become food for the interrogation droids.  Me, I'm taking the bolthole."   And proceeded to walk through them all and out the bolt exit.

_That_ shook them up.  Suddenly, the each _aulend_ remembered his primary duty – to protect his _sheche_ – even when that clan-father expressly didn't want it.  And with that, each clan-father was bustled out through the hole, even Galen, who continued to stare at Jalien.

Jalien pushed Colin through ahead over her, leaving Chedakki to take up the rear and a very confused, very upset Brin.  

"Does this happen all the time?"

Jalien looked at her dazed brother and smiled.  "Only every other week or so."

Behind them, the bolthole closed.


	8. Misfire

Chapter 8 – Misfire 

Jalien cradled her left arm against her body, leaned on a handy wall, and watched (with mild amusement) the verbal chaos surrounding her.  

They had paused somewhere within the walls of the Circle Hall, where she didn't have the faintest clue.  Trem had quickly taken over the lead from Sturrick, which was good as the bounty hunter had even less of an idea where the hell they were than she.  Sturrick just didn't take inaction well.

The current racket revolved around which of the three corridors before them to take, and each _sheche_ had his own idea where to go from here.  It hadn't taken them long to recover from the shock of blaster fire before they started complaining, theorizing, and plotting.  Oh, and accusing.  Can't forget the accusing part.  But, that was mainly directed at Jalien – who they still somehow ignored – and poor Colin. 

Then she snorted.  _Poor Colin, my ass_._  Damn.  He actually made Marcas back down.  That old coot was the first to support kicking me out.  Right after Father, of course._

After several expleratives she was sure Circle members were not suppose to use with each, the political battle raging before her eyes became much too complicated for her to follow with ease.  Instead, she turned to Chedakki.

The young Jedi met her eyes, and shook his head.  "How's the arm?" he asked, joining her by the wall.

"Good as expected, until I get a medikit at least.  Too many emotions bouncing off the walls with them screaming at each other, huh?"

Ruefully, he nodded.  "I'm just not strong enough yet Jale.  There could be a whole squad of troopers on the other side of that wall, and I wouldn't have a clue."

"Hey.  You're getting strong Chek.  But, as you keep telling me, it doesn't happen over night.  Why is that again?"  She batted her lashes vacuously at him.

He rolled his eyes, struggled to keep serious – then stuck his tongue out at her.  Jalien's peal of laughter caused the bickering men to halt for a moment, glare at her (Colin included this time), then resume.  

"I really don't see what so funny." The rebel ambassador scowled as he approached them.  The temperature dropped considerably.

"Well, Ambassador, you just have to make your own fun in situations like these."  Jalien grinned again.  He didn't grin back.

"I want to know what the hell is going on C'tra."

"Oh, wait one minute.  You got no-one to blame but yourself."

"Excuse me?"

"You did know that they were debating this whole join-the-rebels-or-stay-with-the-Empire thing in open Circle right?  As in _open_?  No dampeners, no distortion fields, no secret discussions behind closed doors, except for their own political in-fighting, of course.  Pretty much, the whole issued, laid right out for anyone wandering by."

Brin frowned.  "I just assumed the Council chamber had the usual precautions, at least that what's they told me… "

"Well, you know what happens when you assume; you make an a- ow!"  Jalien glared at Chedakki.  "That hurt!"

"What?" he asked innocently.

She grumbled and turned back to the rebel officer.  "Apparently 'precaution' was the lock on the door.  You did keep in mind the whole 'better-than-the-know-universe' mindset, right?  And those five think they're better than the rest of the planet."

Brin groaned and rubbed his face.  "This is so not good."

"Yup.  Just another day for us."

Brin glanced sharply back at her.  "How do you know so much?"

Jalien blinked innocently.  "What?"

"How do you know so much?  And – godfather.  You called the senior-most member of the Council godfather.  And why did they exclude you from the meeting in the first place?"

She sighed.  _Damn.  _"You heard that huh?  Short version – he is my godfather, the youngest _Sheche_ over there is my brother, and I was declared persona nongrata ten years ago.  And, until the High Command ordered me here, I never gave it a second thought. Oh, and it's _Circle_, not _Council._  Keep up with a simple mistake like that and you'll really never woo them to your side."

Brin stared.  "What?"

"Enough!"  The roar from the center of the room startled them all, including the bickering politicians.  Galen glared them all into submission.  

"Enough," he repeated in a more reasonable tone.  "You all apparently have decided.  I, and my Clan, will follow the lead of Brother Colin of the Gaulend.  Each of you wishes to return to your quarters, so be it.  Just remember, that we will need to come together, or watch the Empire ground the fields to dust."

Another clan-father snorted.  "They wouldn't dare."

"No, but they would dare to kill you and everyone in your family."  Chedakki stepped forward.  

"Really?  That's just propaganda, spread by those dissatisfied with the current system."

"Propaganda didn't build the Death Star.  Propaganda didn't kill every adult in my compound on Helios IV, and torture me."  His fingers brushed against the scar running down the right side of his face.  "Propaganda didn't displace thousands of families and kill the more important Senators of the Parvis Sector.  The Empire did that.  And only those who oppose them can halt such atrocities."   

Several s_heche_ stared at Chedakki, eyes darting between the scar and his eyes.  Fortunately, the Jedi truly believed every word he said.  Hell - sincerity and honesty fairly oozed from his pores.

"Make your choices, gentlemen."  Galen reclaimed control.  "Colin, I gather you've already begun to build a resistance of some sorts?"

Colin nodded, and Jalien had to admire her brother's lack of embarrassment or concern over what normally would be a _serious_ breach of tradition and ethics.  Galen moved to stand by his side.

The other three hovered for a moment, then, with varied excuses moved down the tunnels to their own quarter and own plots.  Colin sighed and Galen clasped his arm supportively.  

"It's time for change, god-father."

The older man nodded.  "I know, even if I don't have to like it."

Several minutes later, the small group emerged from the in-wall tunnels into a spacious, laviously decorated and brightly lit room.  Jalien found herself tallying the cost of the window hangings alone and sighing in regret.  _This place would have made an excellent score._

Hence, it took a minute before those occupying the room to register.

"Ebren, good to see you – "

A man moved to embrace Colin.  The sudden movement forward is probably what saved his hide.

"Jalien!"  Chedakki wrapped her up in a bear hug, while Sturrick slapped the blaster pistol out of her hand.  The rest stared in fascination at the slightly smoking hole the blaster bolt left in the couch.

"Chedakki, let go of me!"

"No! What are you doing?  You tried to shoot him."

"No, I tried to kill him."  She struggled in his grasp with no success.  "That bastard beat the crap out of Duncan ten years ago.  Badly.  God damnit Chedakki, let go of me!"  She tried to squirm away again.

The room was paralyzed.  Chedakki looked to Sturrick.  Who shrugged.  "I'm thinkin' she should have better aim by now."

"Thanks," Chedakki muttered.  "Ow.  Jalien, that was my foot."

"I know.  Let me go."  She finally stood quietly, gasping a little for air.

"If I let you go, will you promise not to shoot at .. whoever that is?"

"Sure."

Chedakki's eyes narrowed.  "And you promise not to try to hurt him?  Or kill him?"

At that she grumbled, something about traitor Jedi, unfeeling bastards and knowing too damn much for his own good.  But, she relented.

When Chedakki stepped back, and she didn't go crazy again, the rest of the room finally took a breath.  

Brin reacted first.  "Care to explain, Ensign?"

"Sure.  That piece of filth over there beat my Captain to within an inch of his life, simply because he was _serren_.  I have a long memory, Ambassador, and I pay back my debts."

Sturrick guffawed.

"Fine.  Certain debts."

"You're an officer in the Rebel Alliance.  Personal vendettas have no place – "

"Really," she drawled.  "Given this spiel to Skywalker recently?"

"And, you have not told me nearly enough about yourself and your involvement in this planet!"  Brin finally lost it.

"And I don't intend to."

Brin choked.  And turned a very interesting shade of purple.

"It wasn't because he was _serren_, Jalien."  The object of the current crisis finally stepped forward.  "It was because he was with you."

Jalien's jaw dropped.  Her head shook slowly.  "What?"

"I regret that I lost control of my emotions so badly.  But, when I saw you smiling, laughing with another…"  He spread his hands.

"Oh, no.  No.  You do not get to make this into some sort of …of unrequited love."

He shrugged.  "As you wish."

Jalien stared, shock rippling through her mind.  _What the hell_…  Then she threw up her hands.  "Enough.  I've promised not to kill him.  Can we move on now?"

"Agreed."  Galen moved forward, gathering Brin up with him in the process.  The ambassador moved along willing, but shot a look back at Jalien that promised a slow death if he could arrange it.

Jalien never saw it.  Instead, she slunked to the furthest of the couches in the room, and collapsed.  Over her head, she could almost feel the conversation Chedakki and Sturrick were having with their eyes.

_What do we do now?_

_Get the hell out of here?_

_I mean with Jalien!_

_Oh.  Um, teach her to shoot better?_

_Sturrick!_

_Fine.  I'll talk with the noble fools and you settled our deranged pirate down._

Sure enough, right on time, Chedakki sank into the soft cushions next to her, while Sturrick moved to the other end of the room.

"Really, Chek, I promise not to try and kill him again.  You can go join in the planning of our great escape.  I think I'll just sit here until ya'll tell me I can move." 

Chedakki met her eyes.  "You really need to tell us the full story sometime."

"Really."

"Really."

She cocked her head to the side.  "Maybe you're right.  But, at the moment, I'd rather get off this mud ball.  We can tell fireside stories later.  Preferably in a bar."

"Any more surprises you might want to tell me?"

"Can't think of a one."

"Somehow that doesn't reassure me."

Chedakki got to his feet, while Jalien felt her head pound in time with her arm.  Normally, she'd be in the middle of whatever they wanted to do.  Men tended to make the worst decisions without her.  But, all things considered, it just took too much energy.

"Jale, snap out of it."  Sturrick's growl opened her eyes.  "Time to be going sleeping beauty."

"So, what's the plan?"

"Brin is going to stay here, help get the resistance thing started planet side.  We're going to bring the guy you tried to kill back to the High Command for debrief and consultation.  It appears he's the spear-head for rebellion here."

"Ebren?  You've got to be kidding."

"Nope.  Seems like a decent sort.  Kinda glad you didn't hit 'em."

"A more hide-bound, obnoxious, over-bearing –"

"I thought I was all that to you."

"And a basket of eggs. But then, you've pulled my ass from the fire more often then I care to count.  Ebren usually threw me in."

"Well, once again, suck it up C'tra.  He's along for the ride now."

"Lovely."  She grasped his hand and allowed herself to hauled out of the couch.  "Hm.  What if something, say a laser wrench, just happen to fall out of a cabinet?  And, just happened to hit him on the way down.  Accidentally, of course."

"Just don't let Chedakki catch you."

"Cool."


	9. Home

Chapter 9 – Home

"So, you have to go?"

"Aye.  The Empire knows we're here.  The sooner we all get moving – you included little brother – the better."

Colin stood awkwardly a few feet away.  Gone was her father's incarnation.  Instead, before her stood an uncertain and off-center young man.  "There's so much I wanted to ask you about the last ten years…  You're not coming back, are you?"

Jalien closed her eyes and took a deep breath.  Voices murmured several yards away as Sturrick and the others planned their route through the city.  Suddenly, Duncan grinned in her mind and she could almost feel his breathe in her ear.

"No, Colin."  She opened her eyes.  "Not if I can help it.  My life is out there.  It always has been."

He nodded, eyes sad.

"But," she stepped forward and wrapped her right arm around his neck, "that doesn't mean I'll forget you this time."

He stood in shock, the wrapped his arms around her middle and held on tight.  "This has got to be the shortest family reunion in history."

She chuckled.  "Hey, I never do things by halves, little brother."

He loosened his grip and stepped back.  "Apparently.  There's still so much I want to know – how you live, the people you've met, the things you've done…"

"Well, I'm pretty crappy at letter writing, but for you I'll give it a try.  As long as you don't mind hearing about the dregs of society."

A corner of his mouth quirked.  "Father would have a fit."

"Yes, he would."  She grinned wickedly.  "What about you?"

"Well, if I'm going to drag Dagentia into the galaxy, guess I better have some idea what's out there."

"Keep in mind, not everyone is a thief or murderer.  Just most of the people I know."

He shook his head.  "Now you better send me those letters."

"Colin," the laugher faded slightly from her eyes.  "Why did you send for me?  Why base your decision on me?  While you're unconventional, brother, I'm still kin-wrecked.   That was a bold move, even for you."

"You know the universe as it truly exists, Jale.  Not just the universe we think we rule on this planet; or the universe those who want to woo us painted.  I knew if you would talk with me, you'd give me the truth as you see it.  You never backed down from your believes before, no matter what Father did to you.  But," he frowned, "I didn't send for you."

"Huh?"

"I didn't know you were here until five minutes before walking in that room."

"Rygan."  She rubbed her eyes, then swore at the make-up smeared on her fingertips.  "Your _aulend_ found me in a bar, and shamelessly used your name to get into the Council Hall.  I thought you called me; otherwise I never would have stepped foot in that place."

"Rygan."  Colin shook his head bemusedly.  "I guess _aulend_ really do know what's best for their _Sheche_."

"Just don't tell him that.  The man has enough arrogance now."

"C'tra!"  Sturrick bellowed across the room.  "Get a move on."

"Shaddup!" she bellowed back.  Then looked at Colin for a moment.  _Ah, what the hell…_  

"Here."  She opened a pouch on her belt and removed several squished scarves.  Letting a couple flutter to the ground, she carefully peeled back the folds of the third.  Within the material a burnished gold stone gleamed dully.

"What is it?"

"Pick it up."

Colin complies and then nearly dropped it as brilliant colors blossomed across the surface.  

"Lords," he breathed.

Jalien smiled.  "It's called a sun stone.  It reacts to direct, physical touch.  The natives who mine them swear the stones read your emotions."

"Where did you get this?"  His eyes never left the stone.

"Oh, I liberated it from a business acquaintance.  It's yours."

His eyes flew to hers.  "Mine?  But, this must be worth a small fortune."

"Yup.  And you better take it before I wake up and realize what I'm doing.  I don't part with my money often.  If you touch it with the silk, it won't react."

"Amazing."  Reluctantly, he dropped the stone back into the scarf and watched the colors fade.

"Jalien!"

"I said, shaddup!  Men," she grumbled.  She raised a hand to Colin's cheek.   "You've got Father's strength.  Use it well.  And, don't get shot before you figure out which end to fire a blaster rifle."  She winked.

"You too sister."  He hugged her again.  "I'm counting on that letter."

"You got it."  She turned to find Sturrick and Ebren already gone with Chedakki lingering near the door.

"What," she huffed as she approached him, "he couldn't wait another lousy five minutes?"

Chedakki shrugged.  "You know 'rick."

Muttering theories as to the bounty hunter's birthrights, sexual preferences and taste in clothing, she followed him through the door.

"Dammit!" Jalien yelped as a bolt scorched the crate next to her.  "Once – just once – I'd like to walk through a city without dodging blaster fire."  She targeted another white body and squeezed the trigger.  The storm-trooper reeled back, but stayed upright.

A pair of storm-troopers had attempted to question the four of them on their way back to the spaceport.  Ebren had first tried to bluff by them, and it almost worked.  Until one of them connected Jalien to the debacle at the Council Hall.  Sturrick and Chedakki made quick work of the pair while Ebren gapped:  first, in amazement at the ease the two took care of the opposition; then, in revulsion, as the three looted the bodies of credits, blaster rifles, a medikit and extra ammo.  Sturrick caught the look and shoved a blaster rifle at him.

"The Rebellion doesn't exactly pay well."

"And you take what you can get, when you get it."  Jalien plucked the rifle out of the Dagentian's hands and tossed him her blaster pistol.  "Unless you've been secretly practicing, I have a better chance of doing any damage with this than you.  Oh, and dibs on the medikit."

"We may need that.  We're not to the ship yet."

"And I'm not at full speed."  She gestured to her arm.

Sturrick rolled his eyes.  "It's a flesh wound."

"Okay, fine.  Do you want me conscious or not to fly your ass off this planet.  Cuz, leave me in this condition and the next fire fight will probably knock me out."

"After all, look at her track record."

She glared at Chedakki.  "I did not ask for your help."

He grinned back.

Sturrick rubbed his chin thoughtfully.  "Very true.  Very true."

"Hey!"

Jalien winced as she dodged another, particularly close, bolt.  She hadn't been hit yet, but there had been more than a couple of close calls.  They completed the rest of the trip through the city uneventfully. However, the five storm-troopers waiting at the entrance to their docking berth quickly changed that.  Two of the Imperials were down already and she was certain a third was hurt pretty badly.  But, the last two were putting up one hell of a fight.

Ebren huddled behind another crate across from her.  Sturrick was slightly in front of them, in the open but prone.  While more exposed, he was also doing the most damage to their enemies.  Chedakki caught her eyes from his position beside Ebren and shook his head.  The young Jedi was trying, but he just didn't have the angle to do any good.

He jerked his chin in Sturrick's direction.  Jalien nodded.  Bursting out from behind the cover, he dodged fire and flung himself down next to Sturrick.  Jalien rolled out from behind her own crate to provide cover fire.  Finally, Number 3 and 4 buckled.  Number 5 managed to hit Sturrick once before collapsing as all three rebels targeted him.

Jalien hauled Ebren out from behind his crate while Sturrick (bitching about his wounded side) and Chedakki moved to the downed troopers.

"Hey!  Save one for me, dammit!"

"Why should we C'tra?  Not like you did anything major.  Sunnvabitch, that hurt!"  Sturrick complained after a twist wrenched his side.

"Aww, it's just a flesh wound," Jalien cooed.

"Shut up C'tra."

Chedakki rolled his eyes, then tossed a medikit to the bounty hunter.  "Here.  I found another one."

"Cool."  Sturrick snagged it out of the air.  _Proof that his wound isn't all that serious_, Jalien thought and rolled her own eyes.

The three completed the usual post-battle ritual in short order.  They shoved three extra blaster rifles into Ebren's arms, explaining what they don't use, they can still sell and finally moved to the _Black Nebula_.

"But, what about those men back there?"  Ebren sputtered.

Sturrick shrugged, then cursed again.  "They'll wake up or they won't."

Ebren stared at the burly blonde.  Jalien nearly giggled at the revulsion and confusion that chased across his face.

"Do you think we actually got those supplies the merchant promised?" she asked as she lowered the ramp to the freighter.

"We better."  Chedakki said.

"What?  Hell no, Chek."  Jalien shook her head

"Hell no, what Jale?"

"Hell no, we are not traipsing back through a city by now on high alert for us.  If the supplies ain't here, someone else will just have to come get them later."

"But, the Alliance needs those supplies.  You know that."

"How about we look in the cargo hold first?"  Sturrick asked irritably.  "And, move it, would ya?"  He pushed Ebren out of his way into the common room.

Chedakki sighed and moved back to the cargo area.  Jalien finally took pity on the Dagentian.  "Here," she pulled him to their general storage area.  "Put those in the weapons locker.  Then strap yourself in.   Taking off isn't going to be nearly as easy as getting here."

Ebren looked at her and for the first time Jalien was pretty sure he was looking at_ her_, not his view of her.  "Do you think they'll have a Star Destroyer waiting for us?"

"Nah, probably not.  This is too small fry.  We'll probably just have to fly through a couple of cutters and maybe a squad of TIE fighters."  She shrugged and could feel the beginnings of a manic grin stretch her face.  "Although, the Destroyers are much more fun to dance around."

She winked at Ebren, who turned an even paler shade of gray and moved to the cockpit.  With a contented sigh, she settled into the pilot's chair.  Behind her she could hear the normal bickering from Chedakki and Sturrick as they manned the gun turrets.  _Well, we must have the supplies if he isn't bitching at me about turning back_.

Her fingers danced across the control panels, and she toggled the internal com.  "Prepare for take off gentlemen.  And strap in good.  This is going to be fast and nasty."  

Cutting the link before the usual taunting about crash landings could start, she felt the ship respond to her commands and rise from the dock. Adrenalin poured through her system, and the grin returned in full force.

This is what she was, what she was made for.  Dodging Imperials, fighting with friends and dancing on the edge of oblivion.  And, somewhere out there, the other half of her soul waited.

She was going home.


End file.
